Switch in Time
by foreverHenry919
Summary: This is another sequel to "The Morgan Chronicles" that explores the family portraits gifted (or returned) to Henry by his two young descendants, Cynthia and (former Lord) Henry. Henry makes a wish and it comes true. Will it work a second time to get him back to where he belongs? I do not own any of "Forever" TV show
1. Switch in Time Ch 1 - I Wish

_"Where are the portraits Cynthia and her brother brought to you?" Jo asked Henry. _

_"You didn't torch 'em, did you, Pops?" Abe jokingly asked. _

_"Of course not, Abraham," Henry replied, frowning. "They're in our storage unit," he informed them. "In perfect condition." _

vvvv

Later on that afternoon, Henry decided to visit the storage locker on West 29th Street. After his wife and son had brought up the portraits, one, in particular, had garnered his attention. Oddly, it wasn't the one that Nora's father had commissioned of them as a wedding gift. It was another. One that held many more memories, good and bad, for him.

He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his wrist after having moved and shifted other boxed items aside so he could access the portraits in the back of the unit more easily. Luckily, his two younger relatives had clearly marked each packaged portrait allowing him to pluck the one he wanted out from behind two medium and two smaller ones. He lifted it up and carefully made his way through the narrow path he'd created and brought it outside of the unit, resting it against the wall across from it. After locking the unit back up, he carried the portrait out to the van he'd hired, one that could adequately accommodate the rectangular portrait's 4' x 2' 6" dimensions. He settled into the van's passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt.

"Lemme guess," the hired driver asked. "It's a portrait of some of dem cats playin' poker, right?" Henry grinned and shook his head. "Dogs ... playin' poker?" Henry's shoulders shook as he continued to grin and shake his head. "Not horses playin' football?" the driver asked, frowning.

"Family heirloom," Henry finally told him. "A portrait."

"Ohhh," the driver said. "Morgan. Youz wouldn't be related to dat old rich guy from long ago, dat J. P. Morgan? Dat a portrait of him?"

"No. No. This is a portrait of my fam - " He caught himself before mentally switching to autocorrect. "My, ah, my family from long ago. Ancestors."

"Gotcha." The driver suddenly swerved into the next lane, narrowly avoiding the car in front of him that had braked to avoid hitting a would-be jaywalker. "Don't worry," he said, looking at an unnerved Henry. "I'll get ya there in one piece, you and the picture of grey whiskers, there." As an afterthought, he added, "If not, insurance will cover youz."

Henry grimaced. "That's, ah ... comforting," he lied, not feeling comforted one iota. He breathed a sigh of relief when they finally arrived at the shop. Having paid for the rides already through an app that Jo had helped him set up on his burner phone, he simply thanked the driver and pulled the portrait out of the back of the van and took it into the shop.

"Heyyy," Abe greeted him. "Whatcha got there?"

"One of the portraits from out of the storage unit," he replied as the both of them carried it up to the second floor living quarters.

"Of what?" Abe asked.

Henry raised a finger and an eyebrow, then freed the painting from its packaging and set it up on the wooden easel in front of the larger chalkboard that had once displayed information on several of his deaths, including the longer times it had taken him to rebirth after certain deaths. There was a clue in there, somewhere, he felt, but at Jo's request, he'd wiped the board clean. Live for today, she and his son always urged him. And because he loved his present family very much, he was very happy to do that. However, this particular memory nudged at him.

"Not what, Abraham, whom," he replied as he stepped back to admire it with a broad smile on his face.

"Wait a minute, is that you?" Abe asked, bending forward a bit to peer at the image of the young boy standing in the forefront to his mother's left and near the end of a long sofa.

Henry nodded. "That is I," he said, pointing at the boy's image.

"Grandma ... Grandpa ... " Abe said as he studied the faces of each painted person. "This is the same portrait that was in the mini-series!" His mouth hung open slightly as he turned to look at his father.

"The very same," Henry proudly replied.

"It's real," Abe whispered, amazed.

"What's real?" Jo asked. She came closer and they parted to allow her to have a better view of the painting. She gasped at the sight of it. "This was in the TV show. The one that was hanging in your father's study." Henry chuckled and nodded. She bent closer to the young boy's image and straightened up, looking at Henry. "Now, that's you. I'd know that solemn look anywhere." Henry frowned slightly and she added, "But you were cute. Very cute." She shouldered in between them again and continued to admire it with them.

"We weren't allowed to smile," he told them, recalling the memory. "Of course, after the grueling experience of sitting for a portrait, one quickly forgot how to do so." He tilted his head to the side, clasping his hands in front of him and pressing his lips together.

"Okay," Abe remarked, "no smiling. Why not?" he asked.

"Because Thomas Holloway, like other artists, I suppose, found it easier to paint slack faces," he explained to them.

"Oh," Abe chortled. "That's why all you guys look so glum."

"That and because he refused to start unless my brother's hair and mine were first lacquered down with lard," Henry continued. "He believed that we looked less masculine with the curls. My personal opinion is that he lacked the ability to imagine them onto canvas."

"Eww," Jo said, wrinkling her nose.

"I'm not sure which was worse," Henry recalled. "Hours of posing with it in our hair or the intense scrubbing to get it out before bedtime."

Abe chuckled. "Looks like you guys had Rudolf Valentino beat by about 150 years with that hairdo." His father shot him a genuine look of annoyance while his stepmother bit her laughter back.

"Also, he had us pose for three days in those same positions before he'd even begun to sketch us. It was a week later before he laid one brush stroke onto the canvas!" he huffed out.

"No wonder the people in a lot of the portraits back then looked so unhappy," Jo concluded.

"My brother and sister," he said, pointing to the two older children, "and I wanted to spend time in the small garden behind the maze on our estate." He closed his eyes and his lop-sided grin began to show itself more and more. "There were bowers of flowers - hellebores, roses, chrysanthemums - and hundreds of butterflies of all types and sizes. And miniature frogs in the fountain in the center of the garden. My brother and I had such a time!" he happily exclaimed.

"Playing with the flowers and the butterflies," Abe deadpanned.

Henry's eyes popped open and walled at him. "The frogs, Abraham," he growled. He smiled more evenly and added, "My brother and I mainly left the butterflies alone after - " He paused, clearing his throat.

"After what?" Jo asked.

He sheepishly rolled his eyes upward and away from them. "After I accidentally - accidentally, mind you - ah, r-rubbed the powdery coloring off of the wings of one of them." Shaking his head and frowning slightly, he added, "Poor thing couldn't manage to fly anymore. Just ... walked everywhere ... " He walked two fingers of one hand across his open palm and heaved a big sigh before saying, "until a bird swooped down and ... ate it."

Jo and Abe laughed heartily although they could see how guilty he still felt after more than two centuries. "You were a kid doing what a normal kid does, Pops," Abe managed to tell him through his laughter. "Stop beating yourself up over it."

"Yeah, honey," Jo told him. "It's not like you meant for it to become disabled, making it easy prey for that bird to swoop down and chomp it up."

"You know, now that I think about it, that's how Dahmer and Bundy got started," Abe joked.

"No, no, Abe!" Jo pleaded, holding her sides as she laughed. "Your father is nothing like those horrible creeps."

"Thank you, darling," Henry pointedly told Jo and mock-glared at his son again. He sauntered closer to the portrait and sighed, his hands shoved down into his pockets. "Instead of having to pose for this portrait, I remember that I began to wish with all my heart to be in the garden or ... anywhere but there." He closed his eyes again and took in a deep whiff through his nose, surprised at the fragrant smell of the flowers presenting themselves once again. He frowned slightly at the sound of children's laughter and bubbling water. When something fluttered against his face, his eyes popped open and he stared in wonder. He was back. In the garden! But ... how?

vvvv

"Where'd he go?!" Abe shouted, spinning around while whipping his head around the room. Not finding his father, he looked at Jo, who startled him more when he saw her clamp one hand over her mouth and point to the painting with the other. He followed the direction of where she was pointing and gasped himself when he saw that the image of the young boy Henry was no longer there! "Wh-where'd he go?" he now asked of the boy.

"I, I, I don't know," Jo stammered, lowering her hand from her mouth. "He was remembering how he'd wanted not to be posing for this painting and - he just - vanished!" She looked worriedly at Abe and said, "But he didn't die."

"No, he didn't," Abe concurred. "Shoot, Dad! Why didn't you tell me that something like this might happen one day?!" His gaze swept anxiously over the room again as if to find Henry crouching in a corner grinning and immensely pleased with himself for having successfully pulled off an elaborate magic trick. But he was nowhere to be seen. "Where in the heck could he have gone?"

Before either of them could say anything more, a small voice sounded behind them.

"Excuse me," the voice said. "Could you help me?"

They both whirled around to see a young boy standing before them. His high-waisted white pants had four buttons going down the center with two on each side along the waistband in a T formation. His black, satiny, long-sleeved shirt sported a wide, white collar. The toe portion of his shoes were black and polished to a mirror shine. The light-colored leather portion that covered his instep and heel were of the highest quality peeking out from under his cuffed pants.

"Who ... who are you?" Abe managed to ask, afraid that he already knew.

"My name is Henry," the boy replied, blinking his large brown eyes at them. "Henry Morgan." He noticeably swallowed and appeared uncertain before stating, "And I think I'm lost."

Jo's cell phone rang and she hurriedly pulled it out of her pocket to answer it, hoping that it would be her Henry. Her _adult_ Henry.

The boy gulped again at the sound and look of the gadget and said, "I'm very sure I'm lost."

vvvv

He was back! In the garden! Henry grinned with a look of veritable wonder as he 360-d his surroundings. His gazed dropped and settled onto two young children. Both were dark-haired with large, brown eyes like his. They silently exchanged looks of wonder and slight fear. These were his younger sister, Elizabeth, and his older brother, William. And this was the garden behind the maze on the grounds of his boyhood estate. But ... how? he asked himself again. Did he die and this is another awakening but back to the time of his childhood? Or had he died and this was Heaven for him? Focusing on the children again, he greeted them.

"Hallo," he said to them.

"Hallo," Elizabeth replied. "Are you the new gardener?"

"He's not a gardener," William gruffly told her. "Look at the way he's dressed. But he's probably a thief."

Henry cleared his throat and said, "I can assure that I am neither a gardener nor a thief." He took in a deep breath and released it. Then sat down on one of the two small benches near a large rose bush. "I am a bit lost, though." Lost in time. Then, noticing that he (as a little boy) was not with his siblings, he stood up again.

"Where is your, ah, brother, Henry?" he asked. William's eyes rounded and Elizabeth sported a smile as she glanced smugly at William.

"How do you know about our brother?" William demanded. "Are you a kidnapper? You're waiting for him to join us so that you can take all three of us."

"No, no, no, no, no," Henry replied. "I'm here because - I took a wrong turn (in time) in the maze." That sounds believable. Hopefully. He gestured towards the tall, well-manicured hedges that squared off the small garden area. "Accidentally found myself in here." He looked down at them again, smiling. "Sorry if I frightened you."

Elizabeth stepped forward and took his hand. "You didn't frighten me," she said, smiling up at him. Her small hand holding his took him back centuries to the time they'd played here for hours, days on end. The way she would grasp his hand sometimes and drag him into the playroom to be the "Father" to her dolls at their tea time. The way she'd grab his hand and pull him along with her as she ran after one butterfly then another. He'd had to unclasp their hands after a certain amount of time and assert himself as a boy more interested in the miniature frogs in the fountain. And determinedly unwilling to expose any more butterflies to potential harm from his mishandling of them.

She led him over to a swirling mass of butterflies on the other side of the fountain. Their activity spanned from the 15-foot height of the tall hedges and tapered from a width of eight feet down to less than six inches with those at the bottom never touching the ground. It was a wondrous sight to see. His cheeks were beginning to ache because he was grinning so hard seeing them and all of this beauty once again. Unlike his immortality, he cared not how he was experiencing this again. Not one bit.

"Your eyes are like mother's," the girl told him, still holding his hand. "But your smile is like father's."

He swallowed a lump in his throat at her words for he recalled having been told that for years while growing up. His mother's eyes; those large, interesting Longworth eyes, but his father's dazzling Morgan smile.

"What is your name?" she asked, gently putting her hand into the middle of the swirling butterflies. "Mine is - "

"Elizabeth," Henry finished for her, almost in a whisper. William, still suspicious, elected to remain distanced from this strange stranger. "And your name is William," Henry added.

The boy appeared to bristle at that, balling up his fists and furrowing his brow. "You ARE a kidnapper! How else would you know both of our names? I'm going to tell father!" He turned to run but stopped abruptly at Henry's next words.

"Would you like to know where your cat's eye (marble) is?"

William slowly turned around to squint at Henry, his mouth in a straight line. "How do you know that it was missing? I've looked all over for it. My meddlesome little brother, Henry, stole it or lost it, for certain."

"True," was all Henry offered to supply. "Look behind the first edition of 'Robinson Crusoe' on the bookshelf in father's - your father's study. You'll find it there," he told him.

"How do you know that?" William asked, reluctantly releasing the frown from his face.

Henry chuckled because how many times had he heard that from people over his long life as he'd experienced and seen more and more than most ever would. "Trust me. It's there." He flicked his head toward the hedges and the nearly invisible opening. "Run and see for yourself."

William paused, his eyes moving slowly back and forth, his mouth in a thin line again. "Probably not a good idea," he said, moving closer to the fountain but remaining on the opposite side. "We're supposed to be sitting for the family portrait and ... we ... "

"We could stand not another moment!" Elizabeth blurted out. "First Henry left then we ran out to look for him."

"He was gone so suddenly," William remarked. "The strangest thing. But we thought that he must be hiding here in the garden." He tilted his head to side and looked Henry up and down. "Instead, we find you."

Dear brother William, Henry thought to himself. More curious and questioning than even me but much more skeptical and jaded for some reason. But wait - did he say that his brother was gone so suddenly as in - vanished? And they'd been sitting for a family portrait. It was only then that he noticed how they were dressed: exactly as in the portrait. Was it possible that he had taken his younger self's place in this time? Again, he pondered how as he sat back down on the small bench.

Elizabeth sat next to him. "You didn't tell us your name."

"Call me ... David," he told her. After all, it wasn't a lie because it was his middle name. Looking around, he stood back up, worried. "Where did your brother go?" he asked Elizabeth. William! Telling on him!

"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "Everyone's vanishing today." Her voice trembled and he could tell that she was near tears.

"Try not to worry," Henry told her. "He's ... probably run back into the house to find his cat's eye." Henry sincerely hoped that was the case for there really was nowhere for him to hide in this open garden. The maze presented a great problem because he'd long forgotten how to work his way out of it.

"Will you come back to the house with us to see Mummy and Papa?" the girl asked him. "I'm sure they would be delighted to meet you."

Delighted to meet him. He thought not. They'd most likely get the authorities on him. But to see them both again. Just beyond the maze, just within reach. Mother and Father again as young parents. Amazing, he thought to himself. With a trembling smile and threatening tear, he fought against allowing Elizabeth to lead him out of the maze and into the house.

"Why are you so sad looking now?" she asked him.

"Because ... " he paused to swallow. "Because I would very much like to (love to) see your parents but I have to get back home to my wife and children. They must be wondering where I've got off to." They must be frantic, he thought. And as clueless as he was as to how to get back to them.

She patted his large hand with her small one, bringing a broader smile back to his lips and successfully abating any tears. "Don't worry. My brother, Henry, always says if you really and truly want something and you wish it with all your heart, it will come to pass."

Goodness. He did used to say that. But it was years before that fateful night in 1814. No matter how hard he'd wished after that night to be released from his curse, it had done no good. "I wish it were that simple," he said, his eyebrows raised and lips pursed.

Elizabeth stood up facing him and held onto both of his hands. "Then I'll help you. We'll wish together for you to return to your wife and children if that's what you want most." She closed her eyes and lifted her head a bit, squeezing his hands with hers. She popped one eye open and then both of them. "Come now, do as I do," she urged him. "Close your eyes and wish with all your heart." She closed her eyes and retook her previous stance.

Alright, he thought. Wish with all my heart. He closed his eyes and thought of Jo and Abe and little Lorenzo. His family now that he loved with all his heart. He wished with all his heart to be with them again.

"It was there!" William shouted as he entered the garden again. Holding up his prized cat's eye marble and grinning from ear to ear. "I found it exactly where you said it would be." He was breathless from having run into the house to search for it and ran back to rejoin them afterward. "They all thought that I was running around searching for Henry." He tucked the marble safely into his pants pocket and asked why the two of them were holding hands.

"We're helping David to make a wish," Elizabeth excitedly replied. "You wished to find your marble and now you have it," she pointed out. "Let's help David wish to return to his family."

William studied him through narrowed eyes for a second or two, then sighed, giving in. "Fair enough," he said.

Just then, their attention was drawn in the direction of the sound of raised, adult voices shouting out each child's name. The sounds indicated that the searchers were drawing nearer and were now on the other side of the tall hedges next to the garden.

"Hurry," Elizabeth urged them. She held Henry's left hand with both of hers and William did likewise with Henry's right. They closed their eyes and murmured a unified, earnest wish for Henry's return to his family.

Henry cheated a bit by opening one eye and drinking in their appearance again. His long ago brother and sister, ten and six respectively. How wondrous to see them again and he wanted to remember this moment forever. He tightly shut his eyes and earnestly wished along with them.

Notes:

Information on sitting for portraits in Victorian Era and artists of that time, including Thomas Holloway, found at wikipedia. Also, which famous books were published prior to 1786. Robinson Crusoe, a novel by Daniel Defoe, was one of them.

The description of young Henry's clothing basically comes from the portrait seen in Daddy Morgan's study in episode 14 "Hitler on the Half Shell". It's on a chair in the scene where Henry confronts his father after finding out that he's now involved in the slave trade.

I also Googled to find out if marbles was a game children played in the 1700s and it was. That and hopscotch.


	2. Switch in Time Ch 2 - Switch Back

_"Who are you?" Abe asked, afraid of the answer. _

_"Henry," the boy replied, blinking his large brown eyes. "Henry Morgan. And I think I'm lost." _

_Jo's cell phone rang and she hurriedly pulled it out of her pocket to answer it. _

_The boy gulped again at the sound and look of the gadget and said, "I'm very sure I'm lost." _

vvvv

Jo looked at the Caller ID and saw that it was her sister texting her that she wouldn't be able to pick up little Lorenzo after all from the sitter. Jo texted her back that it was okay and she wished her well with the medical emergency concerning one of her own kids. She managed to text back while her eyes jumped between the phone's screen and the boy.

He tilted his head to the side and asked, "What is that in your hand? Some sort of music box?"

"Yeah, plays music, people talk to each other on it and - " Abe abruptly stopped when Jo jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.

She stared directly into Abe's eyes with a false smile plastered on her lips. "TMI is always bad," she told him. "Especially in situations like this." She added, widening her eyes and darting them quickly at the boy then back at him.

"Oh, because ... " Abe's mouth formed a silent O then he clamped his lips together and nodded. "Sorry."

"May I look at it?" the boy asked, reaching for her cell phone.

"Um, no. This is not a toy or a music box," she told him and pocketed the phone. The boy was decidedly disappointed and began to pout.

"Wait. I got something for you," Abe told him.

Quickly descending the stairs to the shop's retail level, he then walked behind the counter and pulled a box out from underneath, placing it on the counter. He lifted the lid off and placed it aside. The boy had taken off behind Abe before Jo could stop him so the two of them now stood on the other side of the counter. Finally, Abe pulled out a 1980s replica of a 1960s era transistor radio. He made sure the dial was set to the top 40 station and he handed it to the boy, who accepted it with eager hands. Abe put the ear plugs in the boy's ears and showed him how to turn it on. Once the music blasted into his ears, he snatched the plugs from his ears.

"Just a bunch of whooperups (inferior, noisy singers)!" he disdainfully declared.

"It's called music," Abe explained. "It's what kids your age listen to, uh, around here."

"And ... they enjoy it?" he asked, not believing for one minute that they did.

"Here. Gimme it for a second," Abe told him, wiggling his hands at the radio. The boy relinquished it and Abe turned the tuning knob to find a classical music station.

"What are your names?" the boy asked Jo.

"Well, I'm Jo," she began, "and he's Abe," she said, pointing to him.

"Your parents gave you a boy's name?" he asked.

"No, Jo is J-O. Short for Josefina," she explained.

"Oh, I see," he said. Looking at Abe, he said, "Abe is short for Abraham."

"That's right," Jo said. "Those are our nicknames."

The boy frowned contemplatively. "What would be a nickname for Henry?"

Abe looked up and replied, "Eh, Hank."

The boy's expectant expression gradually deteriorated, making him look as though he'd just swallowed a worm. "Hank," he repeated. "As in a hank of hair. No nickname for me, then," he told them. "I shall remain Henry forever."

Abe exchanged a knowing look and a smile with Jo, then handed the radio back to the boy, They watched him perk back up with a smile of delight after Abe plugged the other end of the earplugs into it.

"This," the boy declared with great emphasis, "is music." He walked slowly away and further into the retail area happily listening to Mozart and the like while letting his eyes roam over the items in the shop. His gaze fell on the small table with the active chess game on it. He pulled the plugs from his ears and studied the game pieces.

"Abe, that may not have been the wisest thing to do," Jo warned him.

"What? He's listening to music he knows. Nothing wrong with that," Abe replied. "Besides, I'm not gonna let him keep it when he leaves - whenever he leaves," he added twitching his eyebrows up and shrugging.

The boy grabbed the knight and turned it upside down to look at the bottom of it. "This game set is mine!" the boy declared, referring to the black knight on Henry's side of the board.

"Hey, put that down, please," Abe urged him as he hurriedly moved from behind the counter and over to the active game to protect the position of the pieces. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you," Abe told him, "but this game is very important." He breathed easier seeing that the game pieces had not been disturbed.

He turned the bottom of the piece toward Abe so that he could see it. "These are my initials I carved into it when Papa gave me this chess game and my first lesson on my fifth birthday! Why do you have it?" he demanded.

"We're just, uh ... " Abe didn't know how to respond.

"Borrowing it," Jo finished the lie for him. "Of course, we should have asked you first, though."

"Hmmm. Well, I suppose since we're spending our days posing for Mr. Holloway, it's good that someone enjoys it," the boy reasoned. "You have my permission," he gladly told them.

"Thank you, kind Sir," Abe replied, bowing deeply.

Relieved that the lie seemed to placate the boy well enough for him to relinquish the knight to Abe, Jo sighed and said, "Well, I have to go pick up the baby from the sitter. My sister just texted me that she's at the ER with her youngest." Abe cast a look of concern to her. "She got her tongue stuck in one of those big safety pins." Jo shook her head at Abe's look of amused curiosity. "Don't ask," is all Jo said. "Oh! Where'd he go now?"

They both startled and scurried to the front of the shop where the boy stood transfixed at the door looking out at the people, traffic, and buildings. "Where am I? And what are those?" he asked, pointing to the cars. "There are people inside of them." He looked up at them and asked again what the wheeled contraptions were and if the people inside were in danger.

"No, no, they - well, it depends," Abe replied, chuckling. "If the people inside are not careful, they could hurt themselves or the people walking." He shrugged again. "Just depends."

"I see," the boy replied. "But where are your horses?" Just then, a mounted NY policeman rode by on a magnificently beautiful chestnut stallion.

"Right on cue," Abe said, sweeping his arm up toward the unexpected sight.

"Is he a military man?" the boy asked, enthralled as he watched them until they were out of sight.

"No," Jo replied. "He's a peace officer." The boy frowned at her, confused. "Um ... a constable."

"Ah!" the boy exclaimed. "He rounds up the law breakers." Jo and Abe grinned as they nodded. He looked out in the direction of the now unseen cop and horse. "Bang up to the elephant (perfect, complete, unapproachable)!" The boy straightened up and pursed his lips. "My apologies. Mummy doesn't like for us to say those things. It's how sailors talk, she says. But if I weren't so set on becoming a doctor when I'm grown up, I think I should like to round up law breakers, too."

Abe and Jo exchanged a knowing look, stifling their laughter. "Who says you won't be able to do both?" Abe asked while Jo frowned and shook her head at him.

"Both?" the boy asked, frowning. "Might be rather difficult squeezing those two jobs together," he said. "Sounds like a hard fit."

"Well, if anyone could make them fit together," Abe told him, "I'm sure that you could."

Jo gave him a really look. "Don't give him any ideas," she warned in a whisper through clenched teeth. "You could mess up the space/time continuum."

His eyebrows flew up, impressed. "Learn that from Dr. Who or from Dr. Henry Morgan?" he teasingly asked.

"No," she replied flatly. "From Dr. Emmett Brown - Back to the Future."

A flashy sports car zipped up, slowing down just long enough to fill the boy's eyes and fantasies. Traffic picked up and it drove away. "Do you have one of those horseless carriages?" he excitedly asked them. They both hesitantly nodded. "May I venture out in it with you?"

Seeing an opening, finally, Jo began to bargain with him. "What is the last thing you recall before finding yourself here with us?"

The boy thought for a few moments then replied, "Wishing that I could be in the garden or anywhere except where I was."

"And where was that?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Posing for that madman, who was supposed to be painting our portraits but just had us standing there day after day!" Jo and Abe chuckled, having heard the story already from their Henry. "Papa was ready to batty-fang (thrash) him but Mummy insisted he was just trying to stir up his creative juices. Creative juices! Hmphf! Spittle, if you ask me," he grumbled, crossing his arms. "So, I wished myself away."

It now became clear to them what may have happened. The boy and their Henry had wished at the same time and even though divided by space and time, they had switched places.

"Our H - eh, friend wished to be ... somewhere else at the same time that you did," Abe explained. "That's why you're no longer in the portrait upstairs. So all you've got to do is wish really hard to be back where you belong so we can get our friend back." Abe shuddered, shaking his head and swallowing back his uncertainty. For what he'd just said made no sense at all, had no place in the natural world. But this was a world with Dad in it. And Adam. A world where Immortals lived and breathed but defied some of the natural boundaries from time to time. Unable to explain things any better to the boy, he hoped it was enough to make him understand that he simply could not stay there with them. And he and Jo desperately wanted their version of Henry back.

"Do you promise to stay inside the, um, horseless carriage the whole time and make your wish to return home afterward?" Jo asked him.

"You have my word," he replied.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Abe asked Jo as she fished her car's key fob out of her pocket.

"It's time to pick up the baby from the sitter, anyway," she replied.

Keys in hand, Jo opened the shop door with intentions of all of them piling into the new SUV they'd purchased to better accommodate transporting baby Lorenzo around. A car backfired down the street startling young Henry which caused him to grimace and clamp his hands over his ears.

"Was it a gunshot?" he asked, still grimacing but lowering his hands from his ears.

"No, no. It's the sound some of the horseless contraptions make if the owners don't take good care of them," Abe told him.

"Oh, I see," the boy said. "Like when our dog threw up because my brother and I didn't feed it a proper meal. Once," he quickly added.

"Er, yeah, I guess so," Abe replied uncertainly. Okay, Dad wasn't a Jeffrey Dahmer; just a typical careless kid. It was refreshing, actually, to find that out. Dad was so prim and proper most of the time, so perfect in thought and deed. Good to know that he had been a normal kid once who did dumb things sometimes. Jo caught Abe's eye and pointed to her wrist even though she didn't wear a watch since cell phones kept perfect time. He nodded and ushered the boy toward the SUV.

After Jo unlocked the doors with the key fob, the boy climbed into the back seat with the baby's car seat. Abe helped him buckle his seat belt, then climbed into the front passenger seat and did his own. Jo slid in behind the wheel and started up the car.

"Where is your game partner?" the boy asked, referring to the active chess game.

"Partner? Uhhh, he's, uh, out of town," Abe stammered. Wayyy out of town, he ruefully told himself.

The boy grew silent as the vehicle began moving into traffic. A smile broadened across his face as he chewed alternately on both sides of his lower lip.

"Havin' a good time, little guy?" Abe asked him.

The boy could hardly contain himself. "This is the most exciting time I've ever had in my life!" he cried out, tilting his head back and squeezing his eyes shut as his smile burst even wider across his face. He opened his eyes and beamed at them.

"Bet you're anxious to get back home," Abe told him.

"I suppose," he replied disinterestedly. "At home, vegetables have to be eaten with the evening meal. Vegetables are a pain to endure," the boy sadly related, pursing his lips. "I suppose I shall have to try harder to eat them, though. Mummy says if I don't, it will stunt my growth. And I'll be stuck short like our French tutor, Monsieur Masson. There's nothing worse than being stuck short."

"Oh, I dunno," Abe told him. "As you grow older, you may find some things ... worse." He side-eyed Jo but cut his eyes straight ahead at the sight of her eyeroll and head shake.

It took them more than an hour to retrieve little Lorenzo from the sitter and return to the shop. The boy had immediately taken to little Lorenzo and had laughingly played with him during the ride back to the shop, completely abandoning the transistor radio and laying it on the seat. Jo parked and they exited the SUV. The boy admiringly eyed the baby in Jo's arms as he walked behind her.

"Your baby boy is a very happy, friendly baby," he told her, waving at little Lorenzo, who cooed and drooled a thin line of saliva onto Jo's shoulder. "He spits as much as my baby sister, Sarah. I rather miss playing with her," he said wistfully.

"Strange that you have no horses to harness yet you harness your baby," he remarked. After a moment of consideration, he noted, "And so were we. Harnessed. Is that to prevent us from getting bounced out of the carriage in case of an explosion like the one we heard before our journey?"

"Eh, something like that, yeah," Abe replied, exchanging a look and a chuckle with Jo.

They climbed the stairs to the second level where Abe took charge of the now drowsy baby and left to place him in his crib. Jo took the boy Henry back over to the painting.

"Remember your promise?" she asked him. He lowered his head and nodded. "Right now would be a good time for you to make your wish to return to the - "

"Not back there!" the boy loudly replied.

"Okay, then wish yourself into another part of the house or ... into the garden," she told him with a great deal of uncertainty. The boy frowned, his eyes darting here and there. Oh, she knew that look so well. He always had it, she realized, smiling and mentally shoving past her jumble of emotions.

"Rennie went out like a light soon as I laid him down," Abe announced as he rejoined them.

Jo nodded and thanked him for putting the baby down. She turned her attention back to the boy, tilting her head to one side. "He's so cute like that," Jo whispered to Abe as they both watched the boy ponder exactly what he wanted his wish to be.

"Yeah, well, I'd much prefer to have the adult cute version of him and so would you," Abe whispered back.

The boy squared his shoulders and cleared his throat and announced that he was ready to make his wish. When Jo and Abe reminded him again to wish to be in the garden, he smiled broadly and dipped his head. "I shall. And it was very nice meeting both of you."

"It was nice meeting you, too, Henry," Jo told him. She stepped closer to him. "May I?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes and sighed. "If you feel the need," he told her.

"I do," she replied and kissed him on the forehead.

"Not totally unpleasant," he admitted, smiling up at her. "When I grow up, I hope to find someone as beautiful as you to marry."

Jo kissed him on the forehead again and turned away in an effort to hide her tears. His sweet, innocent, almost prophetic statement tore at her heart. She just needed Henry to come back to her!

"And you, Sir," he said to Abe, extending his small hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, as well."

Abe shook hands with him, grinning. "Same here, Hank - I mean Henry."

The boy then squeezed his eyes shut and breathed deeply a couple of times, reminding Abe of when he'd injected his father with the dead subway conductor's aconite-tainted blood during the subway crash investigation. For a fleeting moment, he thought how nice it would be to keep him. Like some lost puppy. His turn to return the favor and raise Henry. He chuckled to himself at the thought of possibly raising an eventual Immortal. But, no. They had to get their Henry back. He closed his eyes and felt Jo grasp his hand, squeezing it as he joined the boy and her in the deep wish.

After a few minutes, they felt themselves being embraced by someone with long arms and broad shoulders. Someone who wore a brand of aftershave most found not easily affordable. Someone with a scruff that was brushing up against both their cheeks in the most delightful way. Instinctively, they both knew who it was and their hearts leaped for joy.

"Dad!" Abe cried out, opening his eyes and wrapping his arms around his father. The sound of his booming laughter tremored against his chest making Abe realize just how much he had missed him.

"Abraham!" Henry exclaimed, hugging him closer then leaning back from him. "So good to see you again," he whispered. Abe was too choked up to respond for he hadn't been sure if he'd ever see him again. Abe simply nodded and stepped back for Jo to have her turn at using his father as a squeezebox.

The two embraced and kissed most earnestly, causing Abe to blush and lower his head. As usual, they got lost in each other's eyes and realized once again that there was yet another unknown facet to Henry's condition that may or may not be good to explore. Henry held her close with one arm around her waist. He rubbed her cheek with the thumb of his other hand rubbing her tears away.

"Sorry, Jo," he whispered to her. "I can't explain what just happened."

"It, it's not your fault, Henry," she told him. "Apparently, we're all still learning about different facets of your condition." She smiled courageously at him and wiped away her tears, annoyed with herself for shedding them. "We'll get through it. Whatever comes our way, we'll get through it," she said with definite confidence.

For the millionth or so time since he'd known her and loved her, he thanked his lucky stars for having her in his life. Whether their time together would be short or long, his life would be eternally enriched by her presence. They kissed longingly again and he pulled away from her and asked where his little Lorenzo was.

"He's knocked out," Abe told him, jabbing his thumb backward over his shoulder. Henry quickly left to go peep in on him.

vvvv

Later on that evening ...

With dinner behind them and a mutual sharing of the mind-boggling events of the day, Dr. Henry Morgan and his wife, Det. Jo Martinez, finally began settling down for the night. Despite having shown her game face all that evening and through dinner, Henry could see that she still had some concerns about what had happened to him. Indeed, he had his own. Nothing could have prepared him or her or Abe for him switching places with his younger self from centuries past simply by making a wish!

What was he, really? Did he really have the ability to heal others as he may have done with his many times great-grand-nephew Henry? And did he now possess the ability to travel through time at the mere utterance of a whim?

Jo was sitting on the edge of the bed and seemed to be having trouble unbuttoning her blouse. Her long locks fell over her shoulder and partially hid her face as she hung her head. Henry heard a sniffle, then another. He sat next to her and wrapped his arms around her with his hands covering her trembling hands. He wanted to say something pertinent, something relevant, something uplifting and reassuring but the words wouldn't come to him. So he just held her close and kissed her on the side of her forehead then pressed his cheek to the side of her head.

Jo was fighting angrily against her tears but they continued to flow. Droplets were falling on his hands and she couldn't stop, she just couldn't stop! What was wrong with her? He was back. Just like he always returned. Back and whole and healthy. So what were these tears? "I ... I ... feel ridiculous!" she finally blurted out.

"It's alright, darling," he told her. "You were frightened and worried. The whole thing was so unexpected. As absolutely wondrous as it was to travel back in time like that, it was also one of the most frightening experiences I've ever had. Wouldn't want to go through that again any time soon, that's for sure," he confessed as he shook his head and bugged his eyes.

She shifted her position to face him, cupping his cheek into her palm. "What made your ... switch with your younger self so frightening for all of us was because we never had any clue that you could do that. Most people, period, fear the unknown."

He nodded in agreement. "But now everything's back as it should be, darling."

"Well, I want that painting out of this house," she firmly told him, swiping the last of her tears away.

"First thing in the morning," he promised her.

"Tonight would be better but, okay, tomorrow," she reluctantly agreed. "But not you. Either Abe or I will take it away."

The next morning, Abe helped Jo repackage the portrait and return it to the storage unit. Henry remained at the shop with little Lorenzo until they returned.

"Man, what a ride!" Abe exclaimed as they walked into the shop. Undoubtedly, he was referring to the city traffic but also to their most recent "time-sharing" experience. He flipped the Closed sign to Open and Jo walked over to Henry, who was holding the baby while he stood near the chess game.

"Ready whenever you are," she told him, picking the baby bag up from a nearby chair. "Gotta get little man to daycare and us to work." He seemed distracted and she asked him what was on his mind.

"It would seem that your young visitor has managed to leave us a message," he told her. He picked up the black knight from his side of the board and turned it upside down. "My father gifted this chess set to me on my fifth birthday and gave me my first lesson. I carved my initials on the underside of this game piece. But my initials are no longer there."

They all stared at the underside of the game piece. For his initials had been replaced with a name. A nickname: Hank.

_  
Notes:

Victorian era slang terms (although many, I suspect, may not have been popular at the time the boy in this fic was eight years old, i.e., 1787) found at  
/article/53529/56-delightful-victorian-slang-terms-you-should-be-using

Slight reference to "Forever" TV show 2014 Pilot episode.


End file.
